


Infinity

by trustxlovexhope



Series: Oneshots [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, The Used
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Begging, Belting, Bottom Patrick, Collars, Dildos, Dom/sub, Dominant, Dominant Masochism, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Fingering, Flogging, Gay, Genderswap, Handcuffs, Humiliation, I suck at tagging, Kinky, Lesbian, Lesbian Character, M/M, Masochism, Master/Slave, Mirrors, Missionary, Mistress, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Ownership, Parties, Peterick, Praise Kink, Punishment, Restraints, Riding, Ryan is Nb, Sadism, Smut, Spanking, Squirting, Strapons, Submissive, Tattoo Kink, Tattoos, Teasing, Truth or Dare, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, Voyeurism, degrading, fem!peterick, infinity on high, non-binary, oversensitivity, possessive, rough, sir, straight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 01:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustxlovexhope/pseuds/trustxlovexhope
Summary: "You're gonna get my initials tattooed right here, where nobody can see besides me," P whispers in Trish's ear, fingers tracing across her lower stomach and her breaths creating droplets of moisture on the sub's skin. It sends chills up the other's spine."So you'll be reminded every single day that you belong to me. And afterwards? I'm gonna wreck that pussy. "All Patricia can do is nod, head spinning.





	Infinity

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sn1tchesAndTalkers and FedoraSlut for editing and revising. Also in Wattpad on my account IWrtBksNtTrgds (69 Shades Darker).

P is a dom. She's never been anything else, never even /tried/ subbing. Everything about her gives that away though, from the way she dresses to the way she walks. P is a dom. And not the kind of dom that looks like a dom on the outside but in reality is a complete pussy bottom. God no. She's a dom through and through, in public and in private with her girlfriend, Trish. She orders Trish around in every day life, from chores to just general commands of, "get me some water," to the days where Trish can barely walk due to the night before. P controls just the right parts of her life and they both fucking love it. It was never the fact that P was a dom in the first place that brought them together, though.

What originally caught Trish's eye about P was that her body was /covered/ in tattoos. The Nightmare Before Christmas sleeve on one arm and a lock on the other and a tattoo of one of those Miyazaki movies that P grew up with as a kid. The bartskull just between her hips and the black patterns of aces and spades and clubs and hearts down her back. Then down her thighs and calves to the vines and petals and the phoenix on her stomach. Not to mention the small, cocky "Sir" she tattooed on her chest. Trish /loved/ the tattoos. She still loves them, the way they twist and curve with her body, how her inked fingers contrast from Patricia's when they hold hands. How she always tells Trish it's okay to touch them and how much that turns the girl on. 

Anyways, after the tattoos came the BDSM. 

Neither of them do anything too kinky, maybe a spanking here, a buttplug there, nipple clamps if Patricia is brave enough, and then, of course, the "Yes, Sir's" and the begging. This part started when they'd been dating for a few months and they started having sex. They worked out what they were comfortable with: using strap-ons, oral, fingering, anal, etc. But it was about a month from there that P began to make Patricia beg, and /god/ did she comply. From the endless stutters to the yells and even /screams/ that escaped her lips in the bedroom. 

More than P loved dominating, Trish loved submitting, being used as a toy and nothing more. At first, she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to get into a relationship like that because most BDSM relationships are straight or gay. But this? It worked out amazingly. They hadn't even meant to get into it at first, it just kind of happened. P was pretty much a closet sadist and Trish was a closet masochist. They just kind of worked out.

Trish and P do a lot of things together. Sex, go on dates, go to the park, hang out with friends, eat together, But one thing that rarely ever crossed that list was going to parties. Anyways, it kinda led to a big night.

It started when a friend of theirs, Bren, invited them over to a party. P and Trish didn't think much of it, it's just a small party with a few friends, right? Maybe some drinks and music, truth or dare if they felt young enough, and listening to Blink-182 while they chat.  

Wrong. 

The moment they arrive at Bren's house (where they could hear the music from a block away), Trish sighs and P just chuckles softly, looking to Trish with humor. Sum 41 is blasting through the speakers, lights are shining, and a few drunks are stumbling around outside. Some guy (Trish thinks his name is Bert) has a hand up some girl's shirt and the girl is obviously too wasted to care. 

P smirks as she puts the car in park in front of the house and opens the door on her side, ignoring Trish's sound of obvious protest. P was the one to push Trish toward this. This is all on P.

"What are you doing?" Trish whines, unbuckling her seatbelt and swinging open the door to catch P's wrist. The dark haired girl turns and smiles playfully, her red lipstick catching in the light and Trish has to admit, it really fits her with the leather jacket but that's not the problem here. The problem is Trish /hates/ parties. And this is a /party/ party. Not what she was expecting.

"I'm going inside the house to the party Bren invited us to," P replies as if it isn't completely obvious. Trish has the urge to slap her but she knows she'll regret it later. 

"Really, P?" Trish sighs, "You know I hate parties..."

"C'mon, babe. I won't let anything happen to you, you know that. I'll fuck them all up if I have to," P smiles, shutting Trish's car door, "You'll be fine. Trust me."

Trish bites her lip, her blond hair falling into her face as she thinks it over.

Trish raises her chin, lifting her eyes to take in her girlfriend's face. The short black hair, those dark oak eyes and the thorn necklace that hangs loosely around her shoulders, covered by the dark purple tank top. This is P, the girl Trish has put nearly a year's worth of trust into. There's no way in hell P would ever break that trust. They both know that about each other. When Trish's mom died in a car crash, P was there by her side. When P's sister was diagnosed with cancer, Trish was there. They rely on each other like snow relies on ground to fall on. They keep each other sane. They're broken puzzle pieces that fit with no one else.

So yes, this is P. Trish trusts P with her life. A stupid party isn't gonna change much, and she knows if she needs to, they'll go home.

"Okay?"

Trish blinks, a moment of thought going into it, and then she nods, "Okay."

P shows her teeth as she grins and finally turns, pulling Trish along in her baby blue skirt and white sweater (P picked it out because she really liked the color on Trish). P, on the other hand, is more of a skinny jeans and leather jackets girl. They're different, but it works.

Trish giggles a little as they continue through the dewdrop grass and P opens the unlocked front door, wincing a little at the sound of the music blasting. Trish swallows nervously as she shuts the door behind herself and follows P through a few rooms. She doesn't want to get lost. She doesn't want to end up in a bad situation. She's had enough of those troubles in high school. She doesn't want them again.

The house is huge, Bren is pretty rich from her music career and can afford parties like this a lot. Sure, she's invited Trish and P in the past, but they've never actually come until now. And P has to say, it's a little intense. Adults who look just overage decorate the hall, holding beer and some brownies here and there (obviously drugged). There's a gay couple getting really heated in the living room, a couple of lesbians on the kitchen table surrounded by a bunch of guys and girls. Piles of solo cups across the floor, a girl passed out. 

P pulls them into a small room with a TV on one wall and a circle of a few of their friends including Bren. Relief immediately fills Trish at the familiarity and she shuts the door behind them as she looks around the room. Joe, Trish notices, is straddling Andy's lap and giving him a full on lap dance, lips attached and hips rolling hard. Ry is shirtless, their binder on along with a pair of skinny jeans. Meanwhile Frank and Gee are watching, entertained beside one another. 

"Hey, P!" Bren says almost immediately, her voice laced with a slight slur, but mostly excitement, "Wassup? We're playing dare or dare, wanna join?"

Trish blushes furiously, as P nods for her and answers, "Sure, how does the game work?"

"Well, basically it's like truth or dare but it's dirty and you can only choose dare. You give the person two dares and they have to pick between the two. If they can't do one, they have to do the other. It's a ton more fun than regular truth or dare," Ry explains quickly, "And it's dirty, so nakedness is totally cool."  
Trish blushes even brighter, coming in next to P and trying to hide her face a little. 

"You in?" Bren asks.

"Sure," P replies, squeezing Trish's ass softly, making her gasp, "C'mon."

Trish takes a seat beside P and between Gee and Andy. Everyone is watching the lapdance commence, Joe's hips swaying against his boyfriend's with the fabric of their jeans adding friction that Trish could only imagine. 

"Three seconds left," Gee announces, "Two, one."

Joe pulls off of Andy with one last kiss and sits beside him, smirking at the dazed, flushed man beside him. It doesn't take long for Trish to realize that's the end of his turn and Joe's probably up next.

"Kay, Joe, your turn," Bren nods, leaning back on her hands with Ry's head on her shoulder.

Joe smirks, immediately turning his gaze to P and Trish. He sighs and hums for a moment before shaking his head and leaning forward to see Gee and Frank. 

"Gee, give us a strip tease or go in the bathroom and join Billie and Mike's little session," Joe says.

Gee raises an eyebrow, "Striptease right here?"

Joe nods, sitting back against Andy and smirking the slightest. She sighs, but stands up, leaving her boyfriend for the center of the room. She doesn't look the slightest bit nervous like Trish would be in her position. Instead, she just tugs off her hoodie, letting it fall to the floor without grace.

"No, no, no," Joe quickly protests, "You gotta be sexy with it. C'mon, show me some action."

Gee stares at him for a moment, then brushes the teal-rooted, greasy hair from her face and throws the hoodie at him, "You're a fucking pervert, Joe." 

Just like that, without shame, she tugs off her shirt and skinny jeans, leaving her in milky white thighs and a flat stomach. Trish can't help but feel a little jealous, and internally wonders if P ever wants a girl who's skinnier and more beautiful. She lets the thought pass, though, as Gee unclasps her bra, unceremoniously lets it fall to the ground in a pile of black followed not long after by her lace panties that P's sure Frank picked out. 

"Okay, P," Gee sighs, "Let Ry suck your tits or go bottomless for the rest of the game."  
P smirks, and sits up on her knees, her mind already made. Trish watches with interest as she begins slipping off her shirt, "Get over here, Ry."

The brown haired teen smirks and crawls forward, helping P with her bra and immediately taking the inked breast into their mouth, looking up into P's eyes. Trish isn't super bothered by it; it's hot. And she knows she's P's. P isn't the type of girl to cheat. 

Ry cups P's face with their hand, a rose standing stiff on the back of the skin with a vine leading up their arm and disappearing under the dark binder on their chest. Trish has seen it a million times before and still wonders where it leads, but at the same time, she doesn't think she wants to know. 

Ry's lips press against P's, all teeth and tongue, P immediately showing her dominant side and pressing Ry back down. She whines out at the feeling of the teeth clamping down, then stops when Ry begins to suck hard on P's nipple. She has boobs somewhere between a C and a D cup (Trish is pretty sure it's a C, though) so it takes a while for Ry to make their way all around it, P pressing them further down and arching her back as she tilts back and moans. She's always been a slut for this kind of stuff. The publicity of it and how everyone is watching them.

Ry slowly massages the breast covered in hickeys, instead heading to the other where they swirl their tongue over the nipple and begin sucking everywhere else. P lets a desperate whine through her lips but it's quickly muted by Ry's lips back on hers, biting down on her lower lip, and finally pulling away. Their lips are red and swollen and their eyes are glazed with lust, a sheer coat of sweat across their forehead and Trish swears they're something made from heaven.

P puts her bra back on, turning to Trish in the process, "Kay, Trish. Here's my dare, you let me eat you out, or you let Frank eat you out, /or/ you can choose the third option which I can't tell you yet."

Trish blinks, P obviously planned this out. And what's the third option? Should Trish be scared?

"Uh... none?" Trish replies, a lull of uncertainty in her tone. 

"You gotta pick one of 'em," Bren grins, "so what's it gonna be?"

"Does the third option require me stripping down right here and now," Trish asks worriedly. She's self-conscious, P's known that for a while, and Trish swears her dom is using it to get her to pick the third option. 

"Nope," P replies, popping her 'p' and tugging her tank top over her shoulders. 

"Then yeah, sure," Trish mumbles. P turns over, her body nothing but a blur as she straddles her and places her hands down on Trish's lower stomach, watching the girl gasp in surprise. 

"You're gonna get my initials tattooed right here, where nobody can see besides me," P whispers in her ear, her breath creating droplets of moisture on the sub's ear. It sends chills up the other's spine, "So you'll be reminded every single day that you belong to me."

Trish whimpers at that, looking down at where P is tracing the skin at her waistline, right where P's bartskull would be. 

"Oh fuck," Trish breathes as P's hand creeps down to below her waistband to massage her clit thorough her underwear.

"Would you like that, Slave? Want people to know what a moaning, slutty mess you are for me in the bedroom?" P asks, then bites down on Trish's ear when she has nothing else to say. 

"Yes, Sir..." Trish finds herself whispering, unable to contain the feelings bottling in her chest. Because, yeah, that actually sounds /really/ good. Someone right there with a needle, digging into the skin and drawing. The pain that would come with it and the sensitivity, the concentration from the artist and the way P would smirk beside her as the seven letters would paint into the skin. /PLKWIII/ how everyone would ask, and Trish would be forced to tell them about how she belongs to P and P alone. 

She imagines how smooth the skin would be there and how she would feel it as she touched herself and how P would probably suck hickeys into the skin and growl "mine" before pinning her down and giving her a thirty minute spanking. She imagines how red her ass would be, and how that tattoo would rub against P's thigh. She imagines how P might hit the riding crop on it, and how she would lick it as those brown eyes would look right back up into Trish's. 

"So... What's the dare?" Bren asks, taking Trish out of her dirty little fantasy. 

"She's gonna get my initials tattooed right here," P replies with a grin, "All mine."

"Fuck, man. That's intense," Joe comments. 

P smirks, pulling off of Trish to sit back in her seat beside her girlfriend, "She loves it, don't you, Trish?"

Trish lowers her eyes, her cheeks flushed bright and red. The next few words are so embarrassing, but at the same one make her squeeze her legs together to deal with the wetness spreading between them, "Yes, Sir..."

"Oh, shit, I didn't know you guys were kinky!" Bren exclaims. 

"Dude, you couldn't fucking tell from the way P always bosses 'Trish around?" Frank asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Can we just continue with the game?" Trish blushes, avoiding the gazes of all of the others in the room.

"Sure thing, Whore," P chuckles. 

***

"Just PLKWIII? As in the letters?" The tattoo artist asks. Her name is Hayley and she has sunset hair and coffee eyes. She's kinda cute, Trish thinks as she lays back on the table, her jeans unbuttoned and the lace panties pulled down slightly while her shirt rides up to just under her belly button.

"Yep," P replies, "Just like the paper."  
The font is some sort of calligraphy, Trish isn't sure what the font is exactly but it's what P wanted and printed out. Trish called it "good enough" and they left for the tattoo parlor that P trusts. 

"So what's the tattoo for?" Hayley asks as she readies her tattoo gun, fitting a sterilised needle and beginning to fill it with the pitch black ink.

"Ownership, I guess," P shrugs, "She chose this over getting eaten out in front of all her friends."

Hayley smirks, her cherry lips curving as she slides her chair over to Trish's side. P swears she can smell the lesbian on her, "So this is actually gonna hurt quite a bit. I'm guessing you've discussed this already?"

Patricia's eyebrows raise as she looks up at P. The raven haired girl is chuckling at her girlfriend's expression of surprise but Trish immediately smacks her in the thigh, "Bitch, why didn't you tell me?"

"Thought you were a masochist, these things shouldn't bother you," P shrugs. 

"Right, right, whatever. Just get on with it," Trish sighs, shutting her eyes to ready herself for the pain. P chuckles, kissing her girlfriend on the lips as Hayley studies the paper for a moment. 

Hayley moves away, traces the design onto transfer paper before bringing it back for Trish to check, "Okay?"

Trish looks it over and nods quickly, a sharp little jerk of her chin. Hayley presses the paper to Trish's stomach, a few sprays from the bottle by the tattoo gun, a careful rub with a cloth and the design is there in faint ink on Trish's skin as she lifts away the paper. 

"You're happy with that?" Hayley asks. "The lettering? The placing?"

Trish nods once more.

When the needle begins, Trish tries her best not to let the pain show but it actually really fucking /hurts/. It digs under her skin and scratches it open and makes it all sensitive. She's never had a tattoo before but this? God, how does P do it? All she can do is grit her teeth and take a deep breath as she stares at the ceiling and traces the square patterns with her eyes. 

"Aww, is 'lil Trisha trying to be tough like me?" P teases playfully. 

"I will bite your clit off next time I'm eating you out," Trish growls aggressively. P raises an eyebrow, though, when it fades to a whine and she squeezes her eyes shut. The tattooed girl chuckles and presses a another chaste kiss to Trish's forehead. 

"Cutie."

Her eyes open again as she looks down to see Hayley finishing with the P and beginning with the L. The letters are plain and undecorated and Trish just hopes this'll be worth it.

"Look, you're about one out of seven letters in," P smiles, her gaze continuing back down to Trish. 

Trish rolls her eyes, "Yeah, sure. Well, you should have a shorter name."

P snickers, grabbing a chair and taking a seat beside the table. She pulls Trish's hand from her side and begins tracing patterns into the clear skin, watching it turn pale, then back to it's flushed tan color. It's a little mesmerizing, inked skin on such a pale canvas. Trish watches the patterns from where she's laying seeing the infinity pattern that P traces as she tries to get her mind off of the pain. The endless 8 and the way it goes on and on and on. 

Patricia winces, inhaling deeply when Hayley hits a bad place, but it passes soon after and she just tries to focus on P. On P's fingers and the white and the tan. The comparison between their hands. The ace design that patterns both of P's, the eight letters on P's pinkie, ring, middle, and index fingers on both hands. I-N-F-I-N-I-T-E. She remembers P talking about how it came from a scene in The Perks of Being A Wallflower where Sam and Patrick and Charlie were in a truck driving fast through a tunnel. Charlie's said something along the lines of "I swear we were infinite." It inspired the tattoo for P, the whole book kind of inspired P, though. Trish knows she really likes it.

"Do you like my tattoos?" P asks softly, looking up at Trish. Her brown eyes are gentle, questioning. Deep. It's something Trish rarely sees out of P. 

"Yeah," Trish replies, "but I don't know how in the hell you get them. This hurts like a motherfucker."

"Well, from the research I did, most people would be crying or passed out from the pain, so good job, Trish. you're stronger than a lotta people... pain tolerance wise," P teases. 

"I'm sorry I don't exercise near every—/fuck/—day." Trish replies with a scowl, "And I like you being stronger than me. It's hot."

P doesn't reply, just kisses Trish's arm and traces a line across her wrist. She can feel goosebumps up the other's arm, a small shudder echoing through Trish's body, and P wonders why. Wonders if Trish has ever been as depressed as she has. 

They both know P went through a really hard time two or three years back. There was a suicide attempt and self-harm and drugs. She hated herself so much and would just do anything for it to go away, to stop hearing the voices. 

She wonders if Trish has ever felt that bad about her weight or just herself in general. If she ever wanted to ruin that perfect body of hers, and it almost breaks P's heart to think about. She tries not to, though. Instead just ponders here and now and hopes to god they'll never leave each other, and wonders if Trish would ever get a coverup tattoo. 

She sighs and presses a gentle kiss to the soft, clear wrist, eyes shutting to black. Trish gasps from the table as Hayley begins on the W. Concentration is etched into her face with every drag, directing the needle down under the skin to every pore. 

The sadistic side of P actually finds it kinda hot, Trish laid out on a table while a girl works on her. Pain shooting like knives through Trish each time the needle goes through the skin but not quite penetrating it. The way Trish grits her teeth and tries to take deep breaths but the pain never quite goes away, the way Hayley's rubber gloves flex around her fingers and how she spreads out the skin and rubs over the fresh ink to make sure it's alright and she hasn't fucked up. 

The girlfriend side of P, however, feels bad. She shouldn't be putting Trish through this. It was painful for her then, why would she want her own girlfriend to go through that same feeling? Especially for a first tattoo. It's one of the most painful places to get one. With the way Trish is trying to hold back the pain and Hayley just keeps working on her, P wants to shove the tattoo artist away and just cuddle Trish and tell her it'll be okay. 

It's hard to balance the two a lot of times, most of it is the opposing emotions. Pain versus comfort, girlfriend versus dominant. Most of the time, P just lets the dominant, sadistic side out in the bedroom, and her girlfriend side out afterward. Domestically, it's a mix of the two, some dominance shining through her comforting tone. Trish can't decide which side she likes more, and is glad P has both, unlike some of her past girlfriends. 

P focuses back down on the tattoo. Hayley is finishing up the last I and after that she'll add all the extra decorations, the curves at the tops of each letter and the thickening and thinning. The letters aren't big, maybe half the size of the palm of her hand but they're big enough for them both to read them pretty clear. 

Hayley turns to fill up the needle again, hands working slow and steady, careful not to mess up on anything. P doubts she will, though. She's been doing this for years, and while she doesn't personally get her tattoos from Hayley, she does know the artist has been here for over eight years. She's seen her every time she got a tattoo from Lindsey. 

Trish rubs her eyes as the pain continues to buzz through her lower stomach. P watches her chest rise and fall, her shirt tightening around her chest and torso, wrists falling behind her head and eyes shutting. She's tolerating it pretty well, P notices, and each time it does get bad, it only makes her realize she's doing this for her. They both know Trish could have easily said a hard no and P would have backed off, but Trish /wants/ this. She'll go through this much pain to just be claimed as P's and that both touches the girl's heart, and makes her wet. She knows damn well she's gonna need that strap-on they bought last week tonight.

The buzzing of the needle turns back on and Hayley begins working on the tattoo again, digging under one layer of skin to the second. Her eyes are sharp on the object, careful and precise and calculating, each inhale gives her more concentration and each exhale releases tension. Her brown eyes don't blink from her work until she lifts the needle. P wonders exactly how long she's been doing this, if she has tattoos of her own, or if she's too afraid to. 

Hayley draws a curve from the top of the P, more out than in so the very end of the tail reaches just below the middle horizontal line. It's pretty, more pretty than hardcore like most of P's tattoos but she doesn't mind. Trish is a pretty girl, not much of the sexual type at first glance, unlike P, but when you get to know her, she's just as bad as her counterpart. Maybe even worse. 

Trish exhales deep, and reaches for P's hand, squeezing tightly as Hayley finishes up the K and moves onto the W. The L doesn't get much detail, just a little more length on the tails. P watches the hands working on her, the way her stomach flexes under the tattoo artist like the strings on a guitar being bent down, taut and rigid. She watches Trish shut her eyes, blocking off the baby blue to clouds of tan-pale. She watches Trish's fingers squeeze down hard on P's, so hard she's afraid her knuckles might split, but she doesn't stop anything.

I

Hayley finishes the W, the curves and the twirls and the pretty flags and tails. P loves how it's turning out, how pretty it is compared to her own tattoos. How it waves and flutters and swirls almost like cursive. P watches Hayley's ponytailed hair fall under the beanie and in a waterfall down to her shoulder. It's just like Lindsey's but longer and lighter. It's pretty, God so pretty. P wonders if she'd ever be up for a threesome. Again, she can /smell/ the lesbian on her. 

I

She starts on the second I, repeating the same thing over again. The soft curve of the tail up on the top, going to the right in a slant. It's shaped almost like an ocean wave. Something kind of girly but simple all at the same time. 

I

"Can you add a little infinity symbol on that last I?" P asks out of nowhere. Hayley looks up and turns off the needle, eyes searching P's for a moment. 

"Right here," P stands up and points to the bottom of the last I, "Connect it to the base if you can."

Hayley bites her lip, watching P's finger for a moment and nodding, "I can do that. Infinity as in the sideways eight?"

"Yep," P replies. Hayley immediately gets to work turning the needle back on and penetrating the top layer to the second. Trish inhales deeply, obviously sensitive near her hipbones. P smirks, looking up to see Trish with her back arched and her face scrunched up in pain as Hayley finishes with the flag at the top, a slant and a curve just like all the others. Once she's sure it's the exact same as the others and she references the paper, she finally positions the needle down and adds the small decoration on the base. A small sideways eight. 

"Infinity on high," P had said, one long night with a ceiling sky and a lightbulb moon, "have you ever felt infinite, Trisha?"

"I'm not sure," Trish had replied, tracing the infinity on P's right wrist, "But I think you make me feel infinite."

P had smiled, caressed Trish's face and kissed her, open mouthed and sweet and passionate. Their breath mixed and mingled in their sheets and their legs became a spiderweb but there were no spiders. They were flies, trapped and tangled in love but they didn't mind. It wasn't the kind of thing you'd want to run away from.

"Done, anything you want fixed up?" Hayley asks, quickly throwing away the needle to instead replace it with a new one. Trish leans up slightly to trace her eyes over the black marks now between her stomach and her thighs. She winces at the feeling but deals with it when she looks over it, lips parting. P bites her lip, eyes flickering up from the tattoo to Trisha's eyes. 

While it's true that P has a soft side, the one that talks about infinity and beyond. Spiderwebs and a couple of hopeless lovers, she has her dominant, rough side. It talks of choking and spanking and whipping and fucking. Trish knows which side is coming out now and immediately sinks back in submission. P nods, eyes leaving Trisha to instead look to Hayley.

"It's perfect, thank you, how much?" P asks, "I already know about the whole care thing."

Hayley bites her lip as she cleans it up, the melody of Trish groaning in pain reaching their ears, "45 minute session, I have a base price of 100 an hour. So just $100," Hayley shrugs. 

P immediately digs through Trish's purse and grabs a hundred dollar bill along with twenty extra for a tip, "Keep the receipt."

P buttons up Trish's jeans and helps her off the table, keeping a close eye on her. The girl lowers her eyes away from her dom, honestly a little scared of what's to come but at the same time, butterflies of excitement burst in her stomach.

"You need anything else?" P asks, keeping a firm hand around Trish's waist. 

"No, I think that'll be it," Hayley replies, looking up from her money to P an Trish, "Thanks for coming, Guys."

P nods, Trish would at least say thank you but knows P's rules about speaking. "Don't you dare speak without my goddamned permission," she had said. So Trish doesn't, only lowers her head and stares at P's converse with wide eyes and shaky hands, vibrating as fast as a bass drum. P has a firm grasp on the back of her neck as she pulls her forward with each step through the door and outside where it's raining hard. Neither really seem to notice, though, too caught up in the tension between one another. So those raindrops drip cold on Trish's and P's heads, unblocked.

As soon as they get to the car, P pins Trish's chest to the door, making her cry out at the feeling of the tattoo between her hips. Her face is on the frame of the door, her chest heaving and a soft moan escaping her lips. P bites down on her ear, grinding against the girl's ass even though there's no direct friction. It makes them both wetter than before, just the general suggestion of it.

"You were such a good girl for the tattoo, huh? All mine?" P breathes, pressing her fingers down her jeans, past the tattoo to her soaked underwear. Trish gasps, bucking down against the palm of her hand but P only pulls away, taking pleasure in the desperate sobs that come not long after. "You want me to fuck that pretty little pussy? Fucking /wreck/ you?" P growls. 

"Yes, Sir, please, Mistress," Patricia gasps against the car door, "Need you to show me who I belong to, p-please."

P slaps her ass hard with her unused hand, the other softly massaging Trish's clit in small, gentle, dry circles, "I bet you liked the pain, didn't you? Liked how she kept going over your hip bones? I swear I'm gonna dig my nails right there tonight, Babygirl and you're gonna be so used and fucked up you won't be able to think, move, or breathe."

P pulls out her right hand from Trish's jeans, instead holding two fingers to her mouth where she opens obediently, taking the soaked fingers in. They hook to her cheek and eventually let go, slipping out of her mouth, "Get in the fucking car. I put your collar in my purse, get it on and don't you dare touch yourself on the way home."

Trish nods without a sound, too afraid, intimidated, maybe. With the way P has her pinned to the car door she can't move, her ass fitting perfectly between P's stomach and thighs. Trish swears she could come right then and there, but she knows she has to hold out 'til they get home. If she comes early, she gets 100 spankings and would be forced to take a vibe up the ass, and another in her pussy for an hour, nonstop. P pulls away after dragging her fingers over Trish's lips, wiping her hands on her shirt and striding to the other side of the vehicle like nothing even happened. Trish wonders if P likes teasing her like that, likes seeing the desperation on her face because she /needs/ it. It seems like something P would be into so she doesn't doubt it.

Trish gets in the car without protest, shutting the door and immediately digging through P's bag for the collar. She finds it not even one minute later and has it on, the black leather cool against her throat and the D ring even cooler. She buckles seatbelt before P can get onto her about it and together, they're off. P immediately places her hand on Trish's thigh. The blond gasps but slowly begins to relax, letting the cold fingers down to the fabric.

They stay there for most of the ride, Trish too distracted to say anything or to look out the window. Her thoughts turn to fantasies. They're a couple blocks away from their house when P finally snaps her out of her reverie.

"When we get home, you're gonna be in the bedroom, I want the strapon out and I want you on your back on the bed, legs spread and all those clothes on the floor," P says, her voice completely monotone and emotionless. It just turns Trish on, the way she goes about it calmly, not mean but not sweet either, "Is that understood?"

Trish bites her lip as P's fingers continue to between her legs. Her legs spread instinctively and P would have laughed if she weren't so horny. Trish is an absolute slut and it turns her on so much how her baby is so eager to obey and how easy it is to just turn her into a moaning mess and she knows damn well she's gonna fuck Trish until she can't think straight, and every little part of her body is screaming for release. She's gonna ruin her. 

"Yes, Mistress," Trish finally replies.

The moment the car stops with a soft squeak, Trish unbuckles her seatbelt and leaves, rushing around the car to head inside. P saw her snatch the keys from her purse. She's calculating, predicts things, thinks before acting. That's just Trish, P is more of a hot headed, speak before she thinks, impulsive type. The opposing sides just kind of work out and contrast in just a way that they hold together.

Trish flings herself through the door, shutting it behind herself and setting the keys on the counter so P can find them later. She doesn't have time to think about it, though, adrenaline is rushing through her blood, turning her to putty, but she's able to hold together just enough to make her way to the bedroom and obey P's strict orders.

"You're gonna be in the bedroom." Trisha heads to the bedroom, immediately shutting the door and not bothering to turn on the light. The bed is well made, only one or two wrinkles in the top blanket but she knows damn well they'll be on the floor by the end of the night. Rain hushes outside the window, coming down in fast droplets that bring the sky down crashing in the city.

"I want the strapon out." Her feet work fast, heading to the side of the bed where she drops to her knees and swings open the bedside drawer, pulling out the 8 inch strapon and the bottle of lube just in case. It's the one they just got and tried once, but /god/ does Trish love it. It hits just the right spots.

"I want you on your back on the bed legs spread and all those clothes on the floor." Trish sets the toy and the lube on the bed, not bothering to shut the bedside drawer and instead tugs off her shirt, whining slightly when it rubs against the sensitive skin, but she doesn't pay it much attention. Her breaths are fast, her pussy far too wet to ignore. She needs P bad, needs her teeth clamping down on her neck like they always do and one hand over her lips. Trish strips off her jeans, throwing them to the floor and once her lace bra and panties are gone as well, abandoned on the floor with the rest of her clothes. The blond leans back in the bed, hands above her head and her legs spread. No matter how self-conscious she is, P will always be the only one who Trish will allow to see her naked or shirtless. It's part of the reason why she didn't want to do the dare at the party.

She takes a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling slow as she imagines everything P will do to her in less than five minutes. Well... more like less than five seconds.

Trish feels the bed dip down and lips kissing hers hard, all teeth and tongue. Her lips become swollen fast at all the biting and sucking, teeth going in hard strokes, tugging and distracting her from the fact that the top's hands are quickly pulling on the dildo and drenching it in lube.

P pulls away once it's strapped into place and covered. Trish bites down on her neck but she quickly shoves Trish back in the bed, one hand on her neck while the other eases the dildo inside her. It's wet and cold but rough and neither say a word through the exchange, Trish far too light headed, and P far too stubborn. All that matters is that P needs to fuck Trish hard and fast until the latter is so used and worn out, she can't think straight.

The blond cries out at the feeling, back arching and her hips pressing against the penetration. P, just as Trish had hoped, shoves a hand over her mouth and hushes her, pressing in all the way until P's hips are flushed against Trish's. The movement is so fast, so intense. Trish isn't sure how to describe it. P's skin is warm and rough from years of working up her body, her muscles easy to feel against her skin. Trish nearly moans again just at the feeling of her softness against P's chiseled frame.

P doesn't let Trish adjust for long. As soon as Trish has begun to relax, she pulls out and shoves back in, not hesitating for a second. The fake cock sliding in and out of Trish makes her gasp and splutter and moan, the feeling of stimulation right where she needs it and the added bonus of P holding her hands above her head and covering her mouth at the same time sends her hips stuttering and grinding back and her entire body squirming. P lets out a small huff at every thrust forward, lips parted and a frown on her face. It's gotta be the hottest thing Trish has ever seen. It doesn't last long, though.

P pulls out and flips her over before ramming right back in, ass in the air and legs spread at a completely new angle. Trish cries out in pleasure, hands shaking and eyes squeezed shut and her mind completely blank. Everything is moving so fast and she can't focus on any one thing besides P. P's hands on her waist. She's sure the bed is squeaking somewhere in the distance and the headboard is denting the wall but neither of them hear it. All they can hear is each other.

"Who the hell do you belong to, Whore?" P growls, her teeth gritted close together so she sounds absolutely pissed, a completely dominant, jealous bitch and Trish loves every minute of it.

"You, Mistress, all you," Trish cries out, trying to move. P shoves her back down into the mattress and holds her there forcefully. She's going at it with all her strength and fucking /wrecking/ Trish. Her thighs are already on fire but it's nothing compared to the reward of the stimulation. Nothing compared to the pleasure she derives from it.

"Talk to me you dumb bitch, tell me how it feels," P growls, biting down on her earlobe not long after. Trish parts her lips, eyes squeezed shut and tries, tries so hard to get a word out but with the way P's pounding right into her g spot with each thrust and sending her legs shivering and shaking so intense, everything is just so cloudy and hazed. She hears a soft whine and it takes a moment for it to process that it was /her/ who made that noise.

"C'mon, Slut, we don't have all night," P breathes, "So much more I could do to you before it's all over."

Trish kinda lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sob, and it's strange, but P doesn't seem to notice. She finally takes a deep breath and forces herself to think, the bed groaning beneath them and P's nails tangling in her long hair, hips slapping against hips and grinding and thrusting. It's so intense and hard and rough. What P's asking seems almost impossible but the words build up eventually.

"Feels good, S-Sir," Trish pants, "Feels so good, can't focus, 'm so dizzy..."

"More," P replies as if that effort alone was absolutely nothing. Trish buries her face in the mattress, biting down on the comforter to muffle her sobs and the fact that she's actually /crying/ into the mattress. Salty teardrops slide down her cheeks, her eyes swelling and her skin beginning to get red and splotchy. P doesn't let her stay like that for long, though, because she's soon flipped over /again/ and P is holding her wrists down with her hands hard, keeping her from moving as their bodies move in perfect sync. Trish is sure it's gotta be near 200 beats per minutes (she totally isn't trying to keep track).

"I-It feels so good, Mistress, your cock against my g spot," She yelps when P grabs her hair and tugs her head back, "Your skin against mine, lips on my neck a-and... oh fuck..."

P hitches her legs up into a new angle and nibbles down her neck, her dark hair clouding both of their eyes and those piercing brown eyes shut. The dom's fingers leave the sub's hand, trailing fire down her chest and torso. Trish's back arches and her stomach sucks in harshly when they reach around to drag and scratch and pinch at the newly inked skin above where the dildo is thrusting in her. She pants out hard, unable to control herself when one finger goes to her clit, rubbing and pressing down and stroking the underside. That fourth piece of stimulation on top of P's mouth on her chest and the strap-on pounding into her and the pain with the tattoo is too much. Too much.

"Need to cum, can I cum?" Trish begs breathlessly, "Can't hold it, please."

"Hold it," P replies as if what Trish just said doesn't matter at all. As if her thoughts are completely worthless, and that really /shouldn't/ turn Trish on as much as it does.

So she holds back, she clenches and strains as P continues to fuck her hard into the mattress. The hand on her tattoo comes up and instead pins both of Trish's above her head, holding her vulnerable and pathetic, unable to move. Unable to escape and unable to fight against her. Her orgasm is still there, right on the edge. Right. There.

"Mistress, really, I-I can't," The bottom sobs, "Please, I-I just, let me-"

"No," P presses, "Wait."

Trish sobs out, back arching off the bed as she squirms and tries to hold back but her body isn't meant for this. She needs to cum. Needs to fucking cum. It feels like an eternity before P switches her angle and she yells out, throwing her head back as the dom's lips bite and suck against her breasts and nipples.

"Sir!" Trish yells, "Please, I'm gonna cum. Please, I-I can't. I can't. P-Please, I j-just..." She's begging for so much more than just to cum. Begging for approval, begging to be good enough for her dom. Begging to be good.

P pulls up from Trish's breast, her hips still pushing into her sub. Her lips lower to the girl's ear and part.

"Cum."

Everything comes crashing down. A scream escapes those lips of hers as she comes. The dildo becomes trapped in a tight clench, unable to move and P smirks at that feeling, knowing it's all over. Trish's muscles tighten and strain, her eyes squeezing shut all the way down to her toes curling. Her hamstrings become fire and the hands above her head squeeze onto the headboard. Her back arches and she's cumming. She doesn't think she can stop, her knuckles are close to splitting for the second time that night, tears fall from her eyes, her head flies back, her hips stutter, everything stops.

When Trish finally does settle, her entire body shaking and twitching, P pays her some mercy and pulls out, grabbing a towel from beneath the bed and wiping up the wetness between her thighs. She doesn't squirt much unless that's what they're trying to do so P doesn't have much to clean. Trish is way too out of it to help at all besides lift her hips and let out a small whine. P chuckles softly, but it isn't all that sweet, still dark and seductive in a way. It's fucking hot. Once P's wiped Trish's tears and placed the towel beside her on the bed, she pulls Trish's hips up on the bed. Trish isn't quite sure what she's doing or if she wants to know, but she finds out not long after when her back is arching again and she has her between her thighs. P's licking circles around her clit no matter how painfully sensitive it is on Trish. She manages a hoarse cry, more tears rising to her hazy blue eyes. She's not ready yet. She just needs... a few more minutes...

"P..." Trish whines in protest, trying to pull away. P shakes her head, lapping one, long lick up her entire slit and leans up to kiss her girlfriend.

"You can take it, Love," P breathes, "Just keep calling me what you're supposed to, Whore."

The other makes a disgruntled whine but gives in, knowing she'll only be punished otherwise, "Yes, Mistress."

P smiles against her slit, looking up slightly before shutting her eyes and positioning her lips around the other's clit. Trish inhales deeply, chest rising and fingers reaching forward to weave in P's hair. P immediately pushes them away, though, pulling her face from between Trish's thighs.

"I should fucking handcuff you, shouldn't I? You know the rule about touching me when I'm eating you out," P growls, hostility and dominance laced in that smoky voice of hers. Trish whimpers at it. No matter how much it can scare her, she loves the fear of it, not knowing what P will do but how her dom is always so commanding about it, like she knows exactly what she's doing even though sometimes she can be just as clueless as Trish. It's the stubbornness of her personality, the demanding.

All Trish can let out of her mouth is a soft, groany, "ah," and nothing else. It's a yes, they both know that. Trish /loves/ being tied up or handcuffed or restrained, unable to do anything no matter how much she wants to. She /loves/ being dominated, being forced into things and everything all depends on a simple word. P gives a small smirk, trailing her fingers lightly over the /PLKWIII/. She slurs out the next words in a soft voice, not quite a whisper, though. A small, seductive voice that makes Trish wet despite the fact she just came. P leans down to Trish's ear and in that soft voice that makes Trish's insides melt, she whispers.

"You wanna be my good little whore? Wanna be all tied up and horny and desperate?"

Trish lets out a wanton moan at that, reaching out for P but the dom immediately catches her hands and shoves them down on the bed, their rounded chests brushing against each other and sending shivers through both of them, "Do you?"

"Yes, Mistress," Trish gasps, eyes dilated and mouth tipped open just the slightest.

"Use your manners," P demands in a harder voice, the soft, whispery kind gone and replaced with harsh dominance.

"A-ah... Please tie me down, Sir," Trish replies weakly, "Please."

P smiles gently as if she didn't just fuck the girl not even five minutes ago. In a soft reply, she replies, "Good girl."

Trish watches with glazed eyes, large pupils. Her back is arched off the bed and her hands still above her head even though P is no longer there to pin them down. No, the dom is down on the floor, searching through their toys in the bedside drawer and pulling out several things while putting away the strapon. A vibrator, a pair of handcuffs, some non-chafing rope, a couple of nipple clamps, and a flogger.

Just seeing her train of thought turns Trish on, watching her hesitation and her impulsive mood. Thinking over exactly everything she wants to do. The last thing she grabs is a spreader bar, one that was custom made to adjust and get her legs apart as wide as they can go. They don't use it much because P likes the feeling of Trish's legs around her waist, but they'll use it now and then on special occasions.

"Mistress?" Trish breathes, eyes rising and beginning to finally, /finally/ clear up.

"Shut up," P replies, crawling back on the bed with the toys on the table and the bar in hand. It's long and sleek and black and just the sight of it pulls her legs apart. She wants it, to be tied down and fucked senseless. She's nervous and excited, feelings are bubbling in her stomach that she always gets at times like these. P opens one end of the bar, sliding Trish's lower calf in, but still above her ankle and clicks it shut tight before getting to the other.

"Do you wanna know what I'm gonna do tonight?" P asks quietly.

"Yes, Sir," Trish immediately replies, no time is wasted in the answer. She wants to be fucked. Wants to be used. Wants P to fucking wreck her and please herself. She needs to be treated like a whore, a slut, a skank, and a bitch. She /needs/ the burn of pain, needs to be hurt and to be teased. She needs to be treated like a piece of shit and it doesn't matter why.

She knows P will give it to her.

The dark haired girl grabs the handcuffs and latches them to Trish's wrists as she continues, "I'm gonna get between those beautiful thighs of yours and I'm gonna make you cum, then I'll finger you until you cum again, just the way you know I want you to," She gives Trish a dark look, turning her blood ice cold and her breaths hitching, "Then I'm gonna ride your face until I cum. I'll put nipple clamps on you and flog you with a vibe up that pretty pussy and make you cum a fourth time. By the time I'm done with you, you're gonna be begging me to stop but you'll want me to keep going."

Trish's eyes widen at the sound of that, legs beginning to shake. P gives off a playful smirk, pulling back once the padded cuffs are in place and instead going to the spreader bar again. She pulls the knob for the spreader bar out and tugs apart the two cylinders until Trish whines in protest at how far out it is. P closes them together just the slightest, then places the knob back in. Trish's legs are spread wide, the legs and the bar a triangle with a wider base than sides. It's kinda hot with how much the sub can take. P's always been into it, at least.

The girl licks her lips as she looks up at Trish. She looks desperate, her eyes dilated a dark black and, though her breathing has gone dark, her chest is still rising and falling at a pace of anticipation. One that P can get all the information she needs from. Excitement, a hint of fear. She ducks under the spreader bar and looks back over the tattoo. It's so beautiful and pretty with a hint of hardcore and P briefly thinks of Hayley. The way those skilled fingers had held that needle and caused Trish to squirm and whimper in pain. She thinks to the way Trish had protested but loved it all at the same time. Thinks about how horny she must have been and that turns her on impossibly more.

P bites her lip, as she gazes back down at the slit stretched out in front of her. She watches how wet and pink and flushed and swollen Trish is, the way she tries to move back, away from P's gaze but she can't get far. She shaves, too. P knows it's because Trish wants to be more attractive, but she couldn't care less. She's beautiful no matter how she trims herself. The raven haired girl doesn't let her though, only presses the half of her non-shaved head from her face and ducks down, eager to get her lips on Trish's.

The bottom gasps as soon as P's mouth is on her, her tongue delving into her entrance and her eyes shut as she enjoys the salty-sweet taste. It's not something she'd enjoy otherwise, but she's learned to enjoy it. Loves how it contrasts from any sort of candy but is just the same in every single way. The taste is addictive in every way.

P inhales deeply, pulling Trish's thighs in and moaning into her folds. Trish inhales deeply, a sob escaping her throat at the feeling of P's tongue and lips, sucking and licking and pressing against her. The blond swears she's never felt a better feeling than being eaten out by P. The way she always just goes for it, pulls her closer and closer to the edge. The way her tongue flexes inside her and her lips attach to her clit. How she'll grab her thighs like she's never seen anything more beautiful. Trish throws her head back and pulls her legs up, still spread wide with the bar. She needs, needs... /something/. It's so good but at the same time absolute torture. She can barely focus and when P's lips leave, she can't stop the demanding, "Don't!" that escapes her lips.

P slaps her, hard. She quickly backs off and lowers her eyes, placing her feet back down on the bed as P wraps her hand around the collar and growls into her ear, "Don't you /dare/ give me orders around here, Bitch. You are /mine/. You listen to /me/. You /don't/ fucking tell me what to do and if I hear that shit again, I will bend you over my lap and give you fifty, is that understood?"

Trish parts her lips, but all she manages is a soft whine through P's hand on her throat. The dom pulls away to let her have a breath and nod, "Yes, Sir, I understand, Mistress."

"Good," P hisses, grabbing the rope from the table and heading back to the foot of the bed. In thirty short seconds, P has the spreader bar tied to the foot of the bed and is securing it as tight as Trish will let her. It stretches her body out just right so she can't move more than a centimeter besides to arch her back (which P finds hot as hell).

As soon as Trish is secured, P dives back in and licks into her with a new found purpose, sucking her clit and licking down her folds. Her lips are smooth against the slick skin, she knows all the right places to pay attention to, knows how Patricia always bucks up when her tongue presses just under her entrance and knows how to flick her tongue just right against her clit to make her scream in pleasure. This is no exception.

Patricia is squirming and sobbing and tugging against the restraints like it's gonna help. Her hips are arching off the bed and coming closer to P's face, pressing tight and enclosing any and all space between them. Trish cries out when P inserts a finger in beside her tongue. That's all it takes for Trish to pull back and clench, trying her best to hold it back.

"Sir, can I cum? Please, Mistress? I'll do anything, please, Mistress!" Trisha begs.

P pulls her tongue out and looks right into Trish's eyes, her cheeks and mouth completely drenched, eyes blown in lust, hair a mess and her lips open the slightest. The blond swears it's the sexiest sight she's ever seen in her entire life and manages a strong moan at that alone.

"Hold it, when I tap your thigh twice, you can cum. You better start begging, whore," P breathes before diving right back down and kissing her entire slit.

Trish lets out a moan that sounds almost pained, her lips parting in pleasure and pure desire in her eyes, but P pays her no mercy. Not until she begs.

"Need to cum, Mistress, all over your face, please. I'll do anything, I'll be a good little girl. A-anything, please, Sir," Trish is nearly hyperventilating with how hard she's trying to hold back her orgasm, trying not to just release. P acts like she isn't even trying, doesn't tap her thigh. Nothing. Trish sobs out as P tongues her clit for a moment, "Anything you want, Sir, let me help you, please. J-just let me cum, I need to cum so bad. I-I've been so good, I-I got the tattoo like you wanted a-and I... I'm all yours. I belong to you, Mistress."

That last sentence is what makes P finally pull her hand up and tap the poor girl's thigh. The signal doesn't process through Trish's desperate mind at first. It's too hazy. Too distracted, but as soon as she feels it, she lets out an ear piercing scream and she releases, clenching and arching with her legs shaking violently and her head thrown back. Trish isn't sure if it's more or less intense than the last one, but it's definitely intense, especially now that P can ride her through it until she's a sensitive, whimpering mess, groaning and trying to pull away from P's tongue. P doesn't let her get away, though, she wants her to feel how sensitive it is. She can safeword if she needs. They both know P like to push Trish's limits, and it isn't rare to hear Trish safeword in the bedroom. 

Trish's breaths are getting worse and worse, she's becoming wet again and she's going to cum all over again. P pulls her tongue out and immediately shoves two fingers inside Trish. She's wide and stretched and P wastes no time in shoving her ring and middle fingers in. Trish's back arches at the feeling, eyes wide and mouth in an O. Pleasure tacks through her small body, her arms strain against the restraints, pulling against her reflexes and it's fucking beautiful. P holds her hips against the bed and rubs her clit with her other hand, sending Trish's body shaking violently and P knows she's gonna cum all over again in less than five minutes. 

She knows exactly how to make it messy, too. 

"Mistress, please, please, please," Trish breathes. Every muscle in her body is shaking, she's panting, her eyes are watering with the need to cum. All she can manage are whines and whimpers. "Please what? You wanna cum all over yourself? Lick it all up afterward?" P teases, lowering her tongue to Trish's clit. 

"Yes, yes, yes," Trish pants hazed, "I'll do anything, anything, let you ride my face afterwards, I'll eat you out so good, jus' please let me cum. I'll do anything, please, please."

P pulls back and slaps her slit, sending chills up Trish's spine and a yelp out her mouth. She doesn't have time to recover before P's thrusting two fingers inside her again, her tongue gone from her clit and instead lapping across the tattoo, tracing the P. Trish's hips buck up against the other's fingers and tongue, incoherent rambling escaping her lips.

P sucks hard on the W right in the middle of her stomach, below her belly button. Trish lets out a sob of pleasure, she doesn't think she can hold back any longer, doesn't think her stamina will let her. It's becoming too much all over again. "I can't hold it, P, please," Trish pants, "Need to come, please."

P pulls up and while still thrusting into her, she lets out a small word of mercy, one small, small word that rakes through Trish's body. 

Just like the first time this happened, she whispers it, and her sub comes undone. 

Trish can't let out more than a yelp at this one, but she does come the way P wants her to. She soaks P's hand and wrist in a spray of her climax, her back arching and her body straining and pulling. P knows she'll be sore tomorrow and also knows they'll need to take a break soon. Neither of them can take this much. The squirting doesn't last long. She goes completely limp, her eyes wide and tears falling from the corners. She can't take anymore. P pulls up and kisses her softly before running her inked hand and wrist over Trish's lips. The girl immediately licks up the salty taste, looking with glazed over eyes into P's. 

"You doing alright there?" P asks softly, pulling away her hand and wiping it into the bedsheets. 

"Tired..." Trish replies, unable to say much else. 

"I know," P says softly, "I'm gonna take off the restraints and then you're gonna eat me out. Afterwards we can continue with you, alright?"

Trish nods hazily, her entire body limp and useless. P's pretty sure she's in subspace so she's careful not to disturb her too much as she uncuffs the handcuffs and sets them on the bedside table, then pulls off the spreader bar but doesn't untie it from the bed. 

P pulls Trish's legs back together, rubbing the inside of her thighs in gentle circles. She digs her fingers in but not her nails until Trish slowly begins to unclench her muscles and melt into the bed. P smiles, kissing the fresh tattoo, then straddles her stomach and begins to rub across there open handed. 

Trish moans in pain and pleasure, trying to relax under P's gentle hands. It hurts a little with no lubricant but they deal with it. 

Once Trish is calmer under P, less tense and hazy, the inked girl pulls Trish down further on the bed and sits down on her face, careful to keep her slit on her lips. 

Trish wastes no time in licking into her, tongue lapping at her entrance in smooth, long strokes. Her skilled tongue doesn't go anyways specifically but eventually goes with purpose. It swirls around her clit, dipping to the underside, then continues down to P's entrance, working her way inside the tightness. P moans and grabs Trisha's hair, pulling her mouth wider open and grinding down. P isn't quick to cum. She never has been, but that's what Trish likes. She can go as fast or slow as she wants to, she has all the time in the world to pleasure her girlfriend and return all the pleasure P gives her. 

Trish pulls her hand up and taps P's thigh twice. P immediately pulls off, gazing down at her girlfriend with a soft look in her eyes. This isn't the dominant side of her anymore, this is the girlfriend side. This isn't hardcore, you're going to take what I give you and like it. This isn't masochist and sadist, submissive and dominant. This is P. The side that makes sure Trish is okay and would never hurt her. This is the side that makes sure Trish knows she's the best girlfriend in the world. 

"Wanna do it on my own," Trish breathes, eyes sharp as P looks back down at her, "Can we turn over?"

P bites her lip and eventually nods, flipping onto her back beside Trisha. Her back rests lightly across the bed and her legs spread for Trish. The bottom wastes no time in pulling her apart and diving in, kissing her clit and sucking not long after. P pulls her hands back to grab the headboard, knowing that Trish doesn't like to be touched when she's pleasuring her. 

Trish dips her tongue in P's entrance, shutting her eyes and taking her time with it. She makes sure she gets everywhere P likes and moves in all the ways that get her off, but not with much vigor. She takes her time and makes sure P enjoys it, pulling out with a sound of slick, wetness and diving back in. P lets out a small moan of pleasure, shutting her eyes and relaxing herself under Trish's tongue. 

Eventually, she does begin to stir away from her girlfriendish personality, though. This is sex. P is a dominant. She can't sub for long, not even for something sweet and passionate. She needs to feel needed, not to be taken care of like Trish does. She needs to be dominant, commanding. She needs so much more.

P grabs Trish's hair and pulls her farther down, her eyes casting over the blond, "Make me cum in the next minute or you're not cumming at all for the rest of the night."

"No!" Trish yelps, tugging out of P's grip. It doesn't take long for her to realize her mistake, though. The, "If I hear that shit again, I will bend you over my lap and give you fifty," from earlier. P glares at her, anger bubbling through her system. Trish immediately regrets what she said and tries to shrink back. P doesn't let her budge, only throws her face down on the bed and twists her arms behind her back before she can do anything else.

"What the hell was that?" P whispers in her ear, a tone of almost disbelief in her voice.

"I-I'm sorry, Mistress, it won't happen again, I swear, Sir, I-" Trish's belated apology comes to an abrupt stop when P slaps her.

"I did not ask for an apology, Whore. I asked for clarification on what you fucking said," P growls, holding the back of Trish's neck down in the bed, "So, Slut, what the hell did you say to me?"

Trish squeezes her eyes shut, tears of fear beginning to rise to those baby blues, "I told you no, Sir."

"And you're not supposed to do that, are you?"

"No, Sir," Trish whines, somewhere between a sob of pain and a whimper of fear.

"You know, if I recall, that tattoo of yours is /really/ sensitive. I bet you'd learn your lesson if I hit you there instead," P whispers, "But sadly, that's not exactly good for a healing tattoo."

Trish swears she can feel her entire body relax at that. It would hurt, she knows that. It hurts just from the slightest movement, but having her girlfriend slap it twenty or so times? God, no.

"Bend over the bed, hands behind your back. If I hear a sound out of those pretty lips of yours, I'll add one. Is that understood?" P asks calmly. It's almost as if she isn't mad in the first place, and that's what scares Trish the most. The fact that P isn't even acting mad, but she knows deep down she's absolutely pissed and her ass is gonna be sore as hell tomorrow.

"That's understood," Trish breathes, sitting up.

P slaps her. Hard. Her cheek stings and a gasp escapes her lips at the suddenness and the impulsiveness of it, "What was that, Bitch?"

"That's understood, Sir," Trish replies in a louder tone, head up and eyes watering. /God,/ is it hot, though.

P gives a soft nod, watching as Trish finally bends over the bed, hands behind her back, shaking. P smirks at how afraid and small she is; vulnerable and willing and submissive. Ready to do anything P says no matter how much she doesn't want to. She just wants to obey, wants to not have to think too hard besides obey. Do as she's told. It's that submissive element that brings out the darkest parts of her and turns the exchange much more sensual and emotional than anything else the two have experienced.

"I want you to count after every five, what do you say?" P asks, pulling her dark hair from her face.

"Thank you, Sir," Trish replies, loud and clear because she doesn't want to be slapped again. P drags her fingers lightly over the baby skin of her sub's ass. It's smooth and flawless even though just a month ago, it had been marked red and purple and blue and black. Beautiful in every way it could be.

P takes a handful of Trish's hair and holds her head in the mattress, keeping it there with a firm grip, then rubbing her ass with her right hand. She pinches and rubs and strokes for a moment until Trish relaxes under her, "That's right, Darling, just like that."

P pulls up with her hand, the wind tracing between her fingers. Trish takes a deep breath in, squeezes her eyes shut, and prepares for the first hit.

It comes precisely on her right cheek, turning the skin an immediate bright red. Blood swells to the skin, bringing warmth to the skin and when P rubs over it, she can feel the difference almost immediately between her skin and Trish's. The sub doesn't make a sound, knows it'll only be worse if she does and instead just keeps quiet and tries not to let it get to her too bad.

P doesn't give any mercy with her spankings. She makes sure it hurts, makes sure Trish won't slip into subspace and makes it inconsistent. Trish inhales deeply with each slap, clenches a lot of muscles in her body and releases once it hits. She tries to make it not hurt but they both know it's pathetic to try. It hurts. It's not painful reinforcement in the least. It's humiliation, degrading. Teaching Trish her place. P makes sure knows that about twenty spankings in.

"Thirty, thank you, Sir," Trish pants, her eyes shut and sweat rolling down her back. Her ass is on fire, her hands are shaking and her legs are spread wide. She swears she's so wet she's dripping, but she doubts she'll even be able to cum after this. If P will let her or if she'll be forced to stay wet and horny for the rest of the night without release.

Almost as if P can read her mind, the dom slaps her ass one more time and asks, "Do you want to cum again?"

Trish nods eagerly, "Yes, Mistress."

P rubs her fingers over Trish's drenched core and after slicking her fingers over the girl's clit, she holds them to Trish's mouth, having the girl take them in while her left hand smacks her ass again, softer and less coordinated than using her right hand.

"Who do you belong to, Trisha? Why did you get that tattoo today?" P purrs into the smaller girl's ear. Trish suppresses a full body shudder, her blood going cold at the feeling of her girlfriend's breaths on her skin as the dom pulls out her fingers.

"I got it because I belong to you, Mistress," Trish replies. There's a moment where neither of the girls say a word. P stands up straighter and smacks Trish's ass three more times in fast sucession, earning herself a, "Thirty-five, thank you, Sir."

"What's my name? What do those initials stand for, Trish?" P asks with a rough tone.

"Pandora Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third, Sir," The sub replies immediately. She loves this especially, they both do. The ownership of P and Trish. How Trish is P's and P's alone. Her sex toy, her girlfriend, her submissive. Everything she is belongs to P. The collar represents it, this whole power exchange represents it and now? The tattoo on her stomach.

/Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!/

Trish bites into the covers at how rapid it is, her muscles clenching up as P finally stops and rubs over the sensitive skin.

"Forty, thank you, Sir," Patricia chokes, tears falling from her sapphire eyes.

"After this, I'm gonna put a vibrator in that pussy and turn it on high and watch you beg for me while I flog that beautiful chest of yours, does that sound alright?" P asks as she rubs her sub's ass softly. Patricia releases a belated breath, her eyes distant and her hands shaking behind her back with tear-streaked cheeks. P quickly realizes she's slipping and gives her one hard smack to snap her out of it. This is punishment, not a stress reliever.

"Yes, Mistress, that sounds perfect," She replies.

The dark haired girl smacks Trish's ass for the forty-first time, watching the sub's face contort in pain and pleasure. The dom decides to pay her some mercy and finishes off the punishment in quick succession, the next eight going in turns from her left to her right cheek and back again until they're on forty nine.

Trish buries her head in the sheets, knowing what's about to happen. The last one is always, /always/ the worst. The most painful, the most humiliating, and the one that always leaves the biggest mark.

She feels the cold leather on her ass before P even has the belt there, the way it soothes over the skin almost as if marking the innocence tainted. The gentle, untouched skin on her bum completely clear and pale but as soon as the belt touches, it becomes marked, pained, tainted and sinned. All the innocence from before disappears and she's rebuilt as a sinner with this new lifestyle. Sex and punishment covering the skin.

When the leather does sooth over the skin, she physically tenses and tightens every muscle in her body. Chills crawl under her skin and up her spine, clawing at her head and it's such an uncomfortable but pleasant feeling that she's not sure whether to moan or sob. P positions it so it'll strike both cheeks at once, folded in half with a wide arch. Patricia inhales deeply, then exhales.

"Three," P says the word short and staccato, firm and matter-of-fact, "Two, one."

The belt pulls back. Patricia wouldn't have time to move even if she wanted to.

It hits. Hard.

P obviously put all her strength into the strike, a scream escapes Trish's lips at it. She unclasps her hands and squeezes the bedsheets, knowing she isn't supposed to touch it. P drops the belt while Trish recovers, the intense burning sensation almost too much for the sub. It's definitely pushing her limits, P knows that well. The first time they did it, Trish had immediately stopped the scene and sobbed into P's arms for a solid fifteen minutes, apologizing and whining. P had put lotion across her bum and kissed her, telling her they didn't have to do it again and they didn't. 

It was actually Trish who asked P to push that limit again, to use the belt. It took a long while of getting used to before Trish could tolerate it, but she tried it every time. This is their third time since the safeword that they've tried it. She had to safeword once before, but it was only because P had been pushing her limits pretty far even before it.

"Good girl, so, so good for me, aren't you?" P asks rubbing her hands over Trisha's ass before standing up straight, "I want you to lay out a couple pillows in front of the mirror so you can lay down with your back on the pillows and your head tilted back. Your hands are going to be cuffed beneath your back and there are gonna be clamps on your nipples. As for your legs... eh... I'll just tie them together once the vibe's in. Understood?"

Trish's eyes meet P's for a moment, searching her dom's for some sort of weakness. Something. She's actually not sure what she's looking for, but she does know P's serious about this. She's been a voyeur for a while and was the one to suggest it seven or eight months ago. They've tried this before several times since then and while Trish hates seeing herself, all plump and gross and fat, P loves it. Loves saying, "See how beautiful my slave is? All mine," and she'll go to each part of Trish's body and kiss it and tell Trish all about why she loves it. 

The blond knows P's just trying to raise her self esteem but she... she really just can't see it. Can't see herself through P's eyes and she cries out in frustration because of it at night. She's screamed and cried and scratched at her skin because she just wants to be beautiful. P's always been there to help her through her episodes, to tell her how beautiful she really is. P has always been there to show her just how beautiful she is, always shown her back to the light.

Tonight, Trish knows, is gonna be a little different.

She wastes no time in nodding and grabbing the pillows from the bed. She stumbles a little on her way, unsteady as she puts weight on her used, sore ass but it passes soon enough and she's able to get the pillows down in front of the mirror. P walks to the other side of the bed, grabbing the clamps, the flogger, the vibrator and the handcuffs.

The whole process doesn't take long and soon enough, Trish is laying across the pillows with her head tilted back to watch the mirror. P is gently putting the clamps on her nipples and gently massaging her breasts to relieve any pain and get her to relax a little. Trish isn't too nervous, they've done the flogger dozens of times, each left her sore and horny by the end of it but it's always been worth it.

Trish inhales softly when P begins kissing her neck, both holds on her chest and rubbing her skin and sucking and biting. The sub moans slightly at the stimulation, feeling her muscles relax and her chest rise and fall at a slow, gentle pace. P gives her one last kiss on the lips, then stands up and presses the vibrator smoothly into Trish's entrance.

It's a little shorter than the strapon, only seven inches, but that's all Trish really needs for it to get to her sweet spot. It's purple, too, (aren't all vibrators?) and has an increase in thickness near the middle. It's really no problem for Trish, though, she's stretched and could honestly probably take a fist if it wasn't a hard limit for her (P's always wanted to try that).

P pushes it all the way into the base, then steps back and grabs the rope, tying Patricia's thighs together in a simple knot, then her ankles. It's beautiful, watching P work. She's so calm about it, concentrated. She doesn't want to fuck up and neither does Trish. They just want to be perfect for each other and the hard truth is, they can't be. But that's okay, their flaws fit together just fine.

P grabs the remote, turning the vibe up to a slow level, maybe only 1 out of 5. Trish has no idea, but it's okay, it's good enough for now. 

She must have missed P grabbing the flogger, too distracted by the feeling of the vibrator buzzing inside her and when she finally does notice, P has a hard look on her face, calculating and quick. When she finally speaks, it's low and demanding, like Trish is in trouble. Killed a man. It's hot and husky but at the same time presses her into submission, even more so than how she already feels, "I want you to keep looking into that mirror. You're going to see every little face of pleasure you make and if you dare take your eyes off yourself, I'm gonna have you take five with the belt once we're over, is that understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," Patricia replies obediently.

"You're mine," P continues, "This fucking body of yours? It's mine. Only /I/ get to touch it. Only /I/ get to mark it. You belong to me, Slave. The collar? The tattoo? All mine. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Trish replies, becoming wetter and wetter by the moment at her girlfriend's talk.

P hits her with the flogger right in the middle of her stomach, "Say it."

"I'm yours, Mistress, all yours, I belong to you," Trish immediately states, watching an expression of desperation cross her face. She tries her best not to think too hard about how her stomach jiggles when P hits it.

P twists the flogger in her hand, finally nodding in satisfaction, "Good, let's begin."

The first few hits land on her stomach, Trish's teeth clench but her face remains mostly the same. All that she allows to echo through her mind as she watches herself is a soft chant of /I belong to P, I belong to P, I belong to P.../ Nothing more and nothing less. The tassles reach over to her sides, leaving marks of red and white and pink, making the skin more sensitive and pained than before. Thankfully, it fades fast and Trish is able to take more.

The longest she's gone with a flogger was about thirty minutes, it was a punishment for touching herself while P was gone on a business trip. She wasn't allowed to cum by the end of the night and P hadn't let her sit until it was time for bed. With a sore, flogged ass, that isn't the best thing in the world. It had hurt and she had cried, but P hadn't felt any sympathy until it was over. She doesn't usually unless that girlfriend side comes out during the scene (like it had today).

Trish is taken from her thoughts sharply when the flogger begins directing towards her chest, running over the clamps briefly, then continuing up to the tops. Trish watches in pain and curiosity, the skin turning from it's pale-tan to the light pink as the leather strips come down on her skin over and over and over again.

P focuses on her right breast for a while, making sure it's covered in a light pink tinge, then continues onto the left, turning that to fire as well. Trish inhales and cries out in pain when it hits the nipple clamp, the first bad reaction of the night. P smirks at that, happy to finally get Trish to cry out. She loves the sounds her sub makes, the noises of pain or pleasure or both at once. It's hot and she knows she's gonna ride Trish's face again sometime tonight to at least get off. All this lead up is making her more and more turned on by the second.

P stops when the flogger reaches back down to Trish's stomach, happy with her work. Trish is panting, eyes glazed over and out of it as she watches herself in the mirror. Her chests rises and falls fast, sweat is slick down her red-pink chest, her hair is a tangled mess spread out on the floor and her mouth is half open. She doesn't have the strength to close it. P really wouldn't mind if Trish went into subspace now, as long as she's not too deep.

"Who do you belong to?" P asks softly, placing the flogger down on the bed and picking up the remote for the vibe inside Trish.

"Yours, Mistress, all yours. I belong to you, I'm yours," Trish stumbles out, her eyes rolling back into her head but they immediately open again when she remembers what P said. The dom doesn't notice.

"Yeah?" P asks, almost as if Trish is a little kid. She turns up the controller until it's 3 out of 5 and Trish inhales deeply, eyes widening. The vibe starts going faster inside her, sending her hips arching up and a muted cry escaping her throat. The sub feels fingers circling her clit and eventually heading down lower to thrust the vibrator slightly. Another cry, louder this time, passes through Trish's lips, but she doesn't dare take her eyes off herself. It's actually kinda /hot/ watching herself...

"Yes, Mistress, I'm your bitch and your whore and your slut. Anything you want, Sir. You own me," Trisha sobs, tears beginning to stream from the corners of her eyes when P stands back up.

"Roll over and put your ass in the air. Keep your eyes on yourself. You're doing so, so good," P praises, "I'm gonna have you eat me out, then we'll finish you up and after that we'll go to bed, sound alright?"

Trish nods in anticipation, a little more focused at that suggestion. She's so wet and it's so frustrating. She just wants to get off no matter how many times she's already come. It's too much. Too, too much. The sub follows P's orders with haste, rolling onto her stomach and placing herself back onto the pillows with her ass in the air. 

Her baby blues stay focused on the mirror, watching P. She can't help but just take in how beautiful her girlfriend is, pulling her dark hair from her dark, russet eyes. A small amount of light from the bedside lamp casts a small shape of yellow on those orbs while the sable centers remain concentrated on Trish's ass, probably looking over all the marks from her hand and the belt (which lays abandoned on the carpet beside her). Her dark, straightened hair sits layered on her right side, reaching only to the top of her shoulder. She's naked, completely comfortable with it, her skinny waist cups her bones just right, but not skinny enough to be unhealthy. 

Trish finally manages to look away when she knows she'll be caught, her gaze shifting to herself in the mirror. She really doesn't want to have another go with the belt again.

P's fingers massage over the used skin, the dark marks and the strip of dark red where the belt had hit especially hard. Trish's hands are shaking and her breathing picks up when the flogger trails lightly over the marks and she completely tenses up, afraid of what P might do.

Thankfully, the flogger is set down and P instead picks up the remote as she walks around Trish. The blond lowers her eyes the slightest, intimidated even though she knows damn well she shouldn't. P gives her mercy again, doesn't get onto her about it, only sits in front of her sub and raises her chin with two fingers, forcing their eyes to meet.

Trish looks needy, P notices. Her pupils dilated and surrounded by just a small ring of jade greens and eton blues. Her lips are red and swollen from biting and sucking at them. Her dirty blond hair covering parts of her face, all tangled and messy and it's fucking /hot/. P shivers slightly at the sight of it.

"Sir?" Trisha breathes, eyes searching P's for some sort of emotion. The dom gives off nothing but a small smile and eventually pulls Trish up enough to fill the gap between their lips.

The sub wastes no time in melting into it, letting P press her tongue in and explore every little crevice she can find, licking up all the blood Trish has been biting out and tasting... well... Trish. The blond, on the other hand, parts her lips against P's and lets the dom own her. Lets her pull her head closer and bite at her lips and suck on her tongue. Trish just completely goes limp, lets all her muscles relax.

Maybe it was a little too early, though.

The next thing she knows, the vibe inside her is turned up a level, 4 out of 5 and she's bucking forward, her cries and sobs swallowed down P's throat and her squirms restrained by the ropes and the cuffs. P chuckles at the attempts to escape and just get off or /something/. She should feel worse about it but in all honesty, she's a sadist and this turns her on more than anything. Her girlfriend's struggling to just get off and the crying. God, she's pretty when she cries.

P pulls out of the kiss, allowing Trish to catch her breath and cry out into the floor, P raises her chin again, though and forces her eyes to meet her own. Trish looks so desperate. So horny. Anything to just get off and P knows exactly what she's gonna do to get her there.

"You wanna cum, Trish? Like a little whore?" P teases softly.

"Yes, Sir, anything. I-I'll do anything at all, I swear," Trish gasps, unable to catch her breath at how intense the vibe is, "P-Please just, I-I..."

"You're gonna have to eat me out until I cum, and after that, you can cum. Does that sound good, Babygirl?" P asks, cupping her sub's jaw and watching the lull of pure lust and desperation possess her eyes.

"Yes, yes," Trish pants desperately, "Anything, Mistress."

P smirks and spreads her legs a little to allow Trish some access, "Good."

The younger immediately shoves her face between P's legs, licking and sucking and thrusting her tongue in and out of her. She uses all the skills in the book to bring P to the edge as fast as she can. She can barely think with how much she needs to come. All that matters is getting P to the edge. Get P to the edge. Get P to the edge.

She vaguely feels the other's hand on the back of her head, holding her hair back from her face as she works. Trish sucks her clit harshly, then licks a large strip of it and goes back down to shove her tongue inside P. It's not as fast and desperate as P thought it would be, more graceful. She does try to bring P to the edge, give her as much pleasure as she can. P moans a little at how she twists her tongue inside her, curving it up just how she loves it.

P tugs Trish up by her hair, connecting their lips and sharing saliva. P can taste herself, the salty musk and she doesn't think she could get any hornier if she wanted to. She needs to cum. That's all that really matters anymore. They're both needy and desperate and horny. She doesn't think she can last long even with her stamina.

P presses two fingers into Trish's mouth, watching the sub immediately take them in and cover them in saliva, her tongue swirling and sucking. She whispers a small praise to the blond, then pulls her fingers out and presses Trish back down while she works on her clit. The sub figures out what P's doing pretty fast and does all she can inside her, thrusting her tongue and curving it. P leans back against the mirror, her left elbow bracing her up and her head laid back against the reflective glass. 

P comes with a cry of pleasure, tightening around Trish's tongue and wrapping her legs around the sub's head. It's such a beautiful pitch, though, clear without a single scratch like a brand new CD. It plays through Trish's dizzy, dizzy head even after P's let her go.

"You wanna cum?" P asks quietly, stroking Trish's hair with soft pants, her chest rising and falling just right. Her hair is in her face, the straightening from that morning beginning to wear off and her natural curls beginning to show. Trish wishes she'd be more comfortable with her natural hair but doesn't fight it. She knows she's just as bad.

Instead the sub just nods, eyes wide and breath coming hard and fast. P grabs the remote from her side, clicking a button and the vibe inside Trish goes absolutely crazy. It's intense and the girl immediately yells out in pleasure and overstimulation. P hushes her softly, pulling her into her thigh and stroking her hair. Her nails feel so nice, brushing against the sub's scalp and Trish has been close for too long. Everything is just so intense, too much. So much.

"Cum when you're ready. You've been good," P whispers, "So, so good, Love."

Trish screams into P's thigh when she cums, her entire body shuddering and shaking with her eyes shut and her mouth wide open. P lets her ride out the orgasm, but as soon as she goes completely limp, she shuts it off and unlocks the handcuffs.

Trish is out. It was a lot to take in one night and they both know that. Four orgasms for Trish, an intense spanking, /and/ eating out P. It wasn't too much no matter how much P thought it was. Trish is only twenty-one. She has stamina. P twenty-six, but it was definitely very intense.

She wastes no time in getting Trish out of her restraints and setting her on the bed. P sets the pillows back on the bed with slow, unrushed movements and gets Trish under the covers as soon as she's finished with that. P pulls her hair out of her face, grabbing the toys and putting them away. 

The post-sex tiredness is getting to her but she doesn't want to go to sleep before Trish wakes up. She needs to make sure her sub is okay. Aftercare is always really important to her. So, as soon as P finishes cleaning up, placing their clothes in the dirty hamper, she crawls into bed and pulls Trish closer to her side, rubbing the other girl's shoulder gently and watching her deep breaths. Her breasts rising and falling under the covers and her eyes shut and her sweat slowly drying. God, it's so beautiful. P swears she's never been so lucky.

About seven minutes pass before Trish wakes up (P totally isn't watching the clock). She stirs, rolls over and reaches for something. Anything. P's there immediately, pulling Trish close and hushing her. The blond lets out a breath of relief at P's presence, immediately relaxing into the warm touch and shutting her eyes.

"You doing okay?" P asks quietly.

It takes a moment for Trish to reply, her eyes finally opening as she looks up at P, examining those beautiful chocolate orbs. Eventually, they fall to P's bare chest where she begins drawing designs into her breast, hearts and stars and tracing the thorn necklace around her neck.

"I'm good," Trish replies simply. She doesn't really feel like talking. She's tired. She wants to sleep, wants to just cuddle into her girlfriend's side and wake up tomorrow morning and remember what happened today and smile. 

P stares at her sincerely, "No pain? You want some lotion? Anything?"

Trish looks back up at her, "The only thing that hurts right now is the tattoo. Seriously, I'm fine. You can rub lotion anywhere you want to tomorrow. I promise."

P smiles as she looks back down at her, rolling her eyes, "Okay, okay. Love you, Trish."

The blond presses her lips to P's, then replies when their lips part, "Love you, too."

Trish huddles down in the covers and shuts her eyes as she lulls herself to sleep, tight against P's side. She swears she can hear a single soft word from the older's lips.

"Mine."


End file.
